The spring breeze blows in February
Chen Yunping
Tiptoeing from the hard slope of the mountain to the sunny slope, with the dream of residual snow, with the frozen light of dead ends, and some numbness and pain.
But gradually warmed up, and the red lanterns kept shining on the earth and the atrium of human beings.
It's a child's power! They shake the trees and see only the slight movement of the branches; grasp the grass and see only the slight trembling of the tip of the grass. They ran timidly on the ground, afraid of slipping in a place that was still frozen; they tumbled over one heel after another in the middle of the space, and they could not stretch their weak bodies. How naughty it seems, but there is not enough spare energy.
In February, the spring breeze spread its hands and feet and ran around, running out of the cold of the early part of the year, running out of the warmth of the mid-quarter turn, and running out of the root that was stirring in the second half. And a light pair of scissors cut out the handsome face of the spring flower, cut out the wild grass buds all over the mountain, cut out the swallow tail that flew back to the north, and cut out the willow green that stood up along the banks of the river.
The spring wind blows up and down the mountain in February, blowing the delicate process from cold to warm, blowing the grass buds to expose the head, blowing the child's heart with the kite flying all over the sky, blowing out the spring warm flowers blooming well.
The steep spring breeze walked in February, swirling in my field of vision, lifting my shirt, rubbing my thin arms, and burrowing into my thick hair. I stood in the warm and cold time, stood in the wide and narrow hinterland of time, shouted the trumpet of the spring wind, and resounded and echoed on the earth.
I raced with the spring breeze of February, accidentally transforming into a thin thread, wrapped around the light figure of February, wrapped around the bones carved into the depth of February.
Standing on the high hill in February, I greeted the light or heavy wind, dipped in the pale blue of the sky far and near, and wrote the chapter where the mountain depression began to awaken.
The spring breeze blows on the road in February, do not forget to talk and laugh with the city, do not forget to run with the countryside. She told the world aloud about everything, and another spring raised her beautiful head.
The February spring breeze caressed my not-so-rough skin, blended into my shy and bold gaze, passed through my 206 bones and all my blood vessels, and stopped in front of the door of my bright red heart. Strands of sunlight rested on the ground, and also faintly smeared with a strong new year's flavor, and the new year's taste drifted out of the door one by one, reaching far away with the blessings of relatives.
February turned over and gradually woke up, the spring breeze gradually warmed up, the snow could not cover the good news of spring, and the spring tide had rushed between heaven and earth. Brothers and sisters, are the helmsmen of this spring, with the imagination of the sun and the moon, one by one rafting forward, catching up with those beautiful future shores.
The spring breeze runs on the ground
Whose children are running on the earth?
With the fire and ideas of the winter, I heard his passionate cries and good songs.
With a sharp whistle, he was circling the ditch with the light and posture of the drifting snow, looking for something.
The dry grass of the slope and the thin branches of the mountain depression firmly twisted the vitality of the roots and whiskers, and listened to the sound of his running in a state of swaying.
Falling snow, wheat seedlings half covered, sparse birdsong, collecting the heavens and the earth, the sun and the moon, traveling through time and space, and listening to the sound of his running.
These winters can withstand all the lonely scenes, with the pain of the skin, experience his naughty and rampage bravery.
He wrapped the good news of heaven in his pocket, his face was pressed against the gray and white cloud, his body brushed over the mountain, drilled into the canyon, hit the cliff wall, and finally a fierce man threw himself into the inner valley, swirled a few times, and couldn't help but say the words that had been held for a long time.
Those were the words that broke through the chest of the field, the words that tickled the eyes and ears of the earth, the words that took the human body temperature and the pulse of the dots!
I in the countryside and in the city are listening, and I clutch the child's strong arm in all directions, eagerly passing through the long-awaited scenery, leaving a warm impression for everyone: the spring of life knocks on the door of heaven and earth and the soul.